"Leaping-bar!" said Mr.
Petulengro, scornfully. "Do you think my black pal ever rides at a
leaping-bar? No more than a windle-straw. Leap over that meadow-
wall, Tawno." Just past the house, in the direction in which I had
been trotting, was a wall about four feet high, beyond which was a
small meadow. Tawno rode the horse gently up to the wall,
permitted him to look over, then backed him for about ten yards,
and pressing his calves against the horse's sides, he loosed the
rein, and the horse launching forward, took the leap in gallant
style. "Well done, man and horse!" said Mr. Petulengro, "now come
back, Tawno." The leap from the side of the meadow was, however,
somewhat higher; and the horse, when pushed at it, at first turned
away; whereupon Tawno backed him to a greater distance, pushed the
horse to a full gallop, giving a wild cry; whereupon the horse
again took the wall, slightly grazing one of his legs against it.
"A near thing," said the landlord; "but a good leap. Now, no more
leaping, so long as I have control over the animal." The horse was
then led back to the stable; and the landlord, myself and
companions going into the bar, I paid down the money for the horse.
Scarcely was the bargain concluded, when two or three of the
company began to envy me the possession of the horse, and forcing
their way into the bar, with much noise and clamour, said that the
horse had been sold too cheap.
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